


La Petite Mort

by Aleaiactaest



Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers Marvel G1
Genre: M/M, Multi, Necrophilia, Plot What Plot, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Sticky Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleaiactaest/pseuds/Aleaiactaest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombie Impactor hauled himself out of a nuclear firestorm, was repaired to shadow of his former self, and returned to wrecking, but eschewed ruling, letting Springer lead the Wreckers instead, but Springer wants more out of his old lover than just another soldier. (Takes place sometimes after "Meltdown", The Transformers (UK) #168–169.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Petite Mort

Springer had him pushed up against a wall. That was not a problem. Impactor might be falling apart, but he could still handle one Triple-Changer. Two might have been a stretch. Three would have been beyond him. One he could handle. The problem was that Springer was giving him an enthusiastic if sloppy kiss.

When Impactor was alive, he would have been pretty pleased by that kiss. He would have returned it. He would have knocked Springer to the floor so they could get really up close and personal. Impactor was dead now, a fact Springer seemed to be having trouble understanding. So Impactor knocked Springer to the floor with different intentions in mind. His shoulder cannon cowling came away from just the little exertion of shoving Springer over and tackling him, an annoyance that he tried to ignore. He jabbed at Springer's chest with the harpoon, not hard enough to puncture but an uncomfortable poke all the same, and he growled, "Are you completely nuts?"

Springer wrapped his legs around Impactor's hips, but it was not the lead in for a throw. The leverage was wrong for that. Impactor could have handled a throw. Springer levered Impactor's pelvis down on top of his, thighs grinding against his with hips with need that Impactor was not sure he was even capable of fulfilling, if he wanted to make a try of it. Already, there was dull purple paint on the insides of Springer's legs, and Impactor did not want to have to explain why. Springer warned, "I told you, if you whine about being dead again, I'm kissing you until you quit it. I mean, what? Do I need to throw you around the sparring room to get you to want me again? You wanted me before."

"Look up necrophilia, kid," Impactor suggested, an edge to his voice that he did not really mean. Springer was not a kid to him; he felt like an old friend and more, but maybe if he hurt Springer, Springer would go away and leave him alone. To emphasise the point, he extricated himself from Springer's legs, roughly, and stood.

Springer looked appropriately downcast, and he pleaded, "That's not talking about a corpse that's walking and talking and can say 'yes'. Just say 'yes', Impactor."

That was a kind of stubbornness Impactor could admire. He was stubborn, too. He said, "No."

If he had looked crestfallen before, Springer looked crushed now, and he mumbled clumsily, "I'm sorry. I just... I missed you, and - "

Impactor groaned and covered his face with his hand. Springer stumbling through trying to express his feelings was worse than Springer trying to jump him. Impactor warred with himself, a fight in which victory was one and the same as defeat, and granted, "You know what? You want to frak a corpse? Fine."

Impactor did not want to think about how terribly eager Springer looked as he got to his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around Impactor. Apparently, Springer was willing to go at it right in the hallway. Impactor would not necessarily have been opposed. Most folks who had half a lick of sense ran the other way when they heard Impactor going _clank clank clank_. However for Springer's sake, Impactor thought that Springer might appreciate not being caught in public banging a zombie if Springer's common sense ever caught up with his libido. He urged, "C'mon, let's get out of the hall before someone sees - "

Emirate Xaaron rounded the corner, his arms behind his back, and wearing that sort of blankly innocent expression on his face that he tended to use when he was going to request a tiny favour that was actually a huge pain in the slat armour. His optics widened as he took in Springer aggressively embracing Impactor and nibbling on Impactor's exposed cannon mount. Emirate Xaaron took a step back and looked ready to beat a hasty retreat.

Impactor twanged his harpoon out, just past Emirate Xaaron's ankle, and into the wall, neatly tripping Emirate Xaaron. Watching Emirate Xaaron fall flat on his face always made Impactor smile, though Springer elbowed him hard in the abdomen. Impactor demanded, "Explain to Springer what's wrong with banging a zombie."

Emirate Xaaron sat himself up and rubbed the back of his head. He said mildly, "Considering what I was planning on asking you, I don't think I can explain that to Springer in good faith."

Impactor reeled his line back in and gave Emirate Xaaron a dirty look. At least Springer had disengaged a bit, showing some sense of propriety. Then he threw away any credit he had earned by asking, "Want to join us?"

"What?" Impactor snarled and kneed Springer, hard.

"But Emirate Xaaron does this thing with his tongue, and I think you'd really like it," Springer protested, putting his hands up defensively.

Impactor looked over at Emirate Xaaron, who had pulled on one of his better, 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' looks. Impactor did not buy it. He never bought it, coming from Emirate Xaaron. He pointed the harpoon at him and accused flatly, "You seduced Springer."

"I wouldn't really call it 'seduced'," Emirate Xaaron demurred, getting to his feet and backing away. "'Seduced' would imply that I put some effort into it and that Springer was initially unwilling, when on the contrary, Springer pinned me to a table." 

Impactor rounded back on Springer and said incredulously, "Why would you that? He's a crippled old buzzard! A slimy politician! A - "

"I like him," Springer replied sullenly. Then he grabbed Impactor's hand and tugged on it hard, urging, "C'mon, forget the suggestion. Let's just do this now." He shot Emirate Xaaron an apologetic look that held the promise of a later more physical demonstration of his contrition.

One of Impactor's fingers came loose in Springer's grip, and Impactor sighed. Emirate Xaaron had a way of working himself into a mechanism's processor, whether he was aiming to do so on purpose or not. Impactor knew from experience. There had been times when pinning Emirate Xaaron down to a planning map or bending him over his desk seemed like a pretty good idea. There had especially been times when getting Emirate Xaaron to shut up, which Impactor always enjoyed, had been more than usually gratifying. Impactor stared balefully at Emirate Xaaron and said, "That's what you were going ask, anyway."

Emirate Xaaron gave him an almost demure smile and a tiny shrug. Springer could be thick, but he finally caught on, one optic narrowed, the other widened, and he blurted, "Wait, you two've screwed before?"

"What, you didn't listen when I said Xaaron was a pain in the exhaust?" Impactor growled. No one ever took Impactor seriously when he said that. They should have. They slagging should have.

Said pain in the exhaust explained delicately, "I enjoy Impactor's company, now and then, when he is in a mood for such things."

Springer slapped his forehead and complained, "Then _what_ is the problem!?"

"Springer, my dear, just because your lovers may have taken comfort from each other at times does not necessarily imply they're interested in a -" Emirate Xaaron started to say.

Impactor was never one to let Emirate Xaaron go on if he could avoid it. Mouth tugged down into a frown, he grumbled lowly, "Threesome. Sure. Why not?" If Springer wanted to do something as frakked up as frak a corpse, why not put a frakking threesome on top? A threesome could not make it any worse.

Emirate Xaaron blinked and then said slowly, "Well then."

Springer grabbed them both and insisted, "Less talking. More clanking."

* * *

As an officer, Springer had his own room. It would have been Impactor's room, if he was alive. As it was, even the thought of maybe getting lie down with some semblance of privacy seemed pretty good, so he did not have to put up with hearing Broadside whine about how the top bunk made him queasy and could Impactor stop shedding parts - sorry, no - and Twin Twist putting Topspin in a headlock for no discernible reason and Sandstorm, Whirl, Rack'n'Ruin, and Roadbuster playing the loudest game of Praxus Hold 'Em Impactor ever did hear. Then Impactor realised he was more looking forward to using the berth for actual berthing than the threesome, and he felt a little sick. He covered his mouth with his hand and made a face, realising he had just coughed up hydraulic fluid. What line was leaking now, he wondered, and he flicked the fluid off his fingers, not caring if Springer or Emirate Xaaron saw. They knew what he was, and if they still wanted him anyway, it was because they were crazy.

Springer shoved Impactor down on the berth and resumed with the kissing and holding he had paused earlier. Emirate Xaaron checked over the door look, peering at it blandly. Then he did a sweep of the room, almost casual. Impactor could have almost admired the nonchalant paranoia if grabbing Emirate Xaaron from behind and dragging him onto the berth had not been so easy. Emirate Xaaron always had a pretty distinct startle response when grabbed from the back: not panic, he was calmer than that, but he definitely did not like it. Impactor would have wondered if it was just the paranoia again, but Emirate Xaaron hated being taken from the back, too, almost as much as Impactor did. He knew why being taken from the back was an automatic turn off for him, at least; he was a drill tank, and Decepticon fliers just loved shooting Autobot tanks in the back, where the engine, transmission, and running gear were all located. Impactor did not care how good a lover was; if someone wanted Impactor, Impactor wanted to see his face. Impactor did not do much thinking when he was shagging, but he did think about how blasted peculiar that was that Xaaron did not like it either. 

Impactor did not much like being on the bottom, either, so he grappled with Springer and flipped him over, getting the Triple-Changer into a position he better preferred. His shin armour came loose on his left leg, so he ducked down to crimp it back into place. Emirate Xaaron, sitting there on the edge of the berth, took advantage of the curve of Impactor's neck and kissed him there, licking at the articulated plates and cables ever so lightly. Any harder, and Impactor would have elbowed him as a threat, getting up on his neck like that, whether it felt good or not, but Emirate Xaaron stayed teasingly light. Impactor's thighs tightened their grip on Springer's hips, and Springer arched into him, body grinding against his.

Emirate Xaaron put a hand on Springer's shoulder, maybe to calm him down but probably just to torment him a bit with gentle caresses that had no blasted place in a military base. Impactor was glad of Springer's momentary distraction, though he'd never thank Emirate Xaaron for the assist, not even as Springer eased up on the kisses and writhing to yank Emirate Xaaron away from Impactor's neck and smooch him senseless. Impactor reached down and speculatively grazed one of the barbs of his harpoon along the inside of Springer's thigh. Instead of closing up, Springer's legs opened out, pressing against Impactor's legs.

That poor, lovesick Triple-Changer. What had Impactor ever done to deserve a lover like him? He didn't care if he disappointed Emirate Xaaron; the wily old buzzard could go frak himself for all that Impactor cared. Impactor cared about disappointing Springer, though. Springer deserved better. So many parts of Impactor flickered on the brink of malfunctioning, and some flat didn't work at all. What if he _couldn't_ do what Springer wanted?

Impactor would just have to figure it out when he came to it. Though, he figured he should have felt that tell-tale tightening down there, that stiffening and tension, by now. Getting hard in a hurry had never been hard for him; taking forever on foreplay was a luxury not often afforded to an underground resistance fighter whose retrorat hole could be firebombed by Decepticon searchers at any time. That, and Springer was a fine specimen of Autobot engineering.

Springer was running his thumbs over Impactor's chest-mounted headlights, fingers drumming on the sides with impatience. Impactor leaned down and nibbled along Springer's head crest, enjoying the way those freaky weird zombie-sharp teeth made Springer gasp and moan into Emirate Xaaron. Springer let go of his kiss there and came back up for one with Impactor. 

Never one to be left out, Emirate Xaaron hooked a leg over Impactor's, letting it hang down between, foot grazing against Springer's knee underneath, and pressed himself closer to both of them, lightly sliding an arm along Impactor's back. Impactor did not particularly appreciate gentle, but Emirate Xaaron made a graceful dance of getting into areas Impactor did not want him to, just by going so softly that he did not register it as a threat. The slagger probably thought it was some kind of game. Could Xaaron tweak along that seam without getting thrown off the berth and still get a reaction?

Impactor's engine hitched and purred quietly, betraying him; Emirate Xaaron could. He grudgingly tugged Emirate Xaaron closer, letting him do as he would, because gentle and soft or not, it felt so slagging good, and when Impactor was literally falling to pieces, he could use something that felt good. Emirate Xaaron pushed his head in between Impactor and Springer to lick Impactor's abdomen and made him whimper, undignified, but Impactor was not ashamed, not when Springer's own engine drowned him out.

He broke off the kiss with Springer and glanced at where Emirate Xaaron's other hand had gone: right into one of Springer's jump jets, a cheap move very like Emirate Xaaron. Sliding his tongue down Impactor's abdomen to his pelvic plating, teasing that devil's silver tongue into one of his hip joints was cheaper still. That hand on his back lost interest with the seams there and moved to his pelvic seams, right between his legs, toying with those little grooves.

Emirate Xaaron wanted to go there? Impactor grabbed his shiny golden aft and popped his two littler fingers between his legs, only to find his fingers tangling with Springer's own. Leaving Springer's legs alone now, he poked just the tip of his harpoon up into Springer's pelvis, pushing it against his latches.

Springer popped open with a heave, panting. His pelvic armour retracted. He was not dripping, but there was a needy glistening to his port. His probe was not out, but Impactor could feel the tension there where it was retracted when he tapped it with his harpoon, the tension he was not feeling in his own probe, though by all rights, he should have been. Maybe he had just gone numb. Parts did that these days.

Impactor retracted his pelvic armour and checked. He was not wet, but getting wet had always been a little difficult for him. When Impactor was in the mood for a ride, the gun oil for his cannon usually worked well enough. Extending his probe was not as smooth as it should have been, and he took his hand away from Emirate Xaaron's aft to check it. Impactor grimaced. His probe was not limp, exactly, but it was not firm enough that he wanted to put it in anything. He swore slowly, "Socket-sucking spawn of a smelt-tender. _Flame_. Shoulda put his exhaust through his head."

Springer reached for Impactor's probe to give him a hand with it and laughed, "Would have been just about accurate, if you did."

Then Emirate Xaaron's mouth was on the tip, those stitches of his nicely tight along the sides, and his tongue was flicking against him ever so lazily with these tiny taps that he should not have even noticed, but he did. They drove him about crazy, and his probe stiffened gratifyingly. Springer kept his hand on it, glared at Emirate Xaaron, and surprised everyone by _growling_ , "Mine."

Emirate Xaaron pulled back, his tongue licking suggestively against one of his own stitches, and he murmured, "But what about your probe, Springer?" He rubbed the very tip of Springer's retracted probe, all that he could touch, and continued, almost breathy, "Think I could fit between you and Impactor?"

Springer's optic cycled a blink and then lit up in delight. His answer was a fast, "Slag yes," and he manhandled Emirate Xaaron into position, grinning like he had just killed two Seekers with one shot. Impactor could have told him not to smile so wide. Emirate Xaaron hated the position of being taken from behind, but Impactor let the matter be for Springer to figure out the hard way. Springer let his probe extend and rubbed up against Emirate Xaaron, not quite whining, "Oh, come on! Let me in! It's not funny."

Emirate Xaaron reached behind him to brush his fingers against Springer's probe and reminded, "Darling, your default's too big for me. Switch it out, please?" He held out a smaller one, which Springer took without complaint and swapped out hastily. Springer was soon rewarded by the click and hiss of Emirate Xaaron opening for him.

Impactor snorted, "Lucky me, Springer's just my size." He prodded against Springer's entrance, and Springer's engine throttled louder. That was all Impactor need to hear. He plunged in, finding Springer much as he remembered. Emirate Xaaron and any hypothetical whoevers had been gentle with Springer, then, or not even taken him there. The difference was not in Springer. Impactor's probe felt halfway numb, picking up the pressures and the textures well enough, but the pleasure was damped, and like every other part of his dead body, it hurt, aching just a little. This was like trying to couple while overcharged after a big battle, which Impactor had done, complete with the difficulty getting it up that overcharge caused, the tingly numbness, and suffusing whole-body ache of after-combat, except that he currently lacked the fun of either a good fight or a good drink. The unfairness of it all rankled sourly in the back of his throat, but sulking was not his style.

Sulking would have been justified, though, when Springer frowned and demanded, "Hey, put a firewall cap on!" He held one out with his free hand and glared at Impactor meaningfully. 

Then he finished putting the firewall cap on his own probe and thrust into Emirate Xaaron, who turned around and placed a hand on Springer's chest, asking, "Before you get too into it, may I tap your feeds?"

Impactor groaned and covered his face with his hand. He reminded, "Springer, I'm dead."

Springer kissed him quickly, continuing that threat to shut Impactor up anytime he whined about being dead, and then pushed the firewall cap into Impactor's hand and insisted, "Firewall cap on. I don't want to catch zombieitis off you."

"You can't catch..." Impactor started to say and gave up on it. He did not want to pull all the way out. Springer was masterful piece of engineering, and now more than ever, Impactor noticed how Springer was warm, vibrant, and _alive_. He felt right enough to make Impactor forget just a bit about how wrong he always felt now. Impactor pulled out like Springer wanted, biting his lip, and snapped the cap on. What was a little more sensation loss? He pushed back in.

Springer's contented sigh was gratifying. He teased, "You're lucky I remembered to turn my dentata off, because, ooh, that's good, and I'd hate to break anything more on you. You're pretty busted already!"

Impactor just grunted and focused on thrusting in and out of Springer, never all the way out. Emirate Xaaron, sandwiched between them, had his probe out, and it rubbed up against Impactor whenever he bore down into Springer. The fact that even the old buzzard could get it up without help rankled. Springer and Emirate Xaaron were up to some goopy overly complicated nonsense with cables, too, and Springer urged Emirate Xaaron, "Come on, you have to tap this feed."

Emirate Xaaron slotted another line into his arm, and he remarked, free hand over his mouth, "Oh my! That _is_ different."

Impactor looked at the cables between Emirate Xaaron and Springer out of annoyance. What the factory gave him was just fine for him. They were swapping feeds on probe and port, so Springer could feel what it was like for Emirate Xaaron and vice versa. Some Autobots thought that made hitting the right spots and contracting at the correct time easier. There was another cable going from Springer to Emirate Xaaron, the datafeed for Springer's lips and mouth. That was fair enough; Impactor could kiss Springer, the way they were positioned, but neither of them could really get down to Emirate Xaaron, short little slagger that he was. Impactor squinted at the last cable going from Springer to Emirate Xaaron, the feed for Springer's port.

"Different," Impactor said flatly, realising that his performance had been called into question and was apparently amusing.

Emirate Xaaron, grabby and disrespectful of personal space as ever, tugged open one of the panels on Impactor's arm and sunk a cable in there before Impactor could protest. Suddenly, Impactor felt what Springer's port was feeling as Impactor coupled with him. Impactor made a face and twitched, glaring. He wanted to say it felt like being frakked with a dildo, but a dildo would probably be _warmer_ , and there was something almost spooky about the overall vibe, something that was just... off.

Springer grinned at Impactor's annoyance over Emirate Xaaron's pushy antics and gave him a hard kiss. He rolled his hips up and scooted himself forward, taking Impactor in deeper. Unnerving as Impactor might feel, Springer left no doubt as to whether or not he wanted it. After a few more thrusts, Springer even broke off the kiss just to demand, "Uhn, harder!"

Springer really meant it, one of the things Impactor loved about him. Impactor could not imagine many who would want _him_ to go harder. He grabbed Springer's shoulder to steady himself, fingers biting in hard enough that Springer hissed over the new dents, and then he slammed into Springer with resounding, rhythmic _clangs_ that made Springer's engine roar. Springer was active, even under Impactor: pushing against him, kissing his nose or jaw or anything he could, his legs tight on Impactor's hips, and his hands only not all over Impactor when they were on Emirate Xaaron instead. Emirate Xaaron was there, too, snuggled against his chest, tight against him whenever Springer thrust into that shiny gold skidplate, his hands caressing his sides, and that hot little mouth tending his chest.

For a moment, Impactor forgot he was dead.

Then his probe fell off.

What Impactor said was not repeatable, but there was a frag in there doing something with a frak that was not physically possible, especially considering how the slag was hooked up to the smelt, glitch, slot, and clinker. He popped his probe back on the mount and shoved back into Springer, ignoring Springer's snickering, and Emirate Xaaron's quieter, covered-mouth laughter. The blasted thing came off again as Impactor pulled back. He glared at the treacherous appendage, daring it to make a move.

Then Emirate Xaaron placed a hand at the small of Impactor's back and the other just at the base of the probe, and he pushed it back onto the mount, holding it there delicately but securely. He looked up and asked, "Does that work?"

Impactor gave it a try and admitted grudgingly, "Yeah. Fine." Then he gave Springer a crack to the side of his head with his harpoon to get him to stop tittering over his misfortune.

"Hey, ow!" Springer protested, but he was cut off by his own moan of pleasure. "Oh, _oooh_! That works, that... ung. That..."

"You like 'that', don't you?" Impactor muttered, rubbing his face against Springer's cheek.

Springer clamored enthusiastically, "Yes, yes!" and grabbed Impactor around the waist, all the better to tug him in when he wanted it and to have him closer.

Impactor felt a crack in his back starting to spread under the pressure of Springer's avaricious fingers, but he ignored it. Emirate Xaaron was asking Springer something about changing angle a bit, but there was a jerk and a loud sigh from Springer before Emirate Xaaron could finish his sentence. Contrition replaced desire and delight on Springer's face, and he apologised quickly, "Blast, did I come before you? Sorry, Xaaron. Do you want manual? Oral? I'll finish for you, I swea-ah-ah, _Impactor_!"

His smile was lopsided, a smirk of satisfaction that he could distract Springer away from even that admirable dedication to his other lover's pleasure. Impactor could have told Springer that position was not going to get Emirate Xaaron off at the start, but so could have Emirate Xaaron, so that was his problem. Judging by the datafeed from Springer, Springer was close enough to a port climax that he was not going to be good for much of anything aside from digging his fingers into Impactor's back, clenching his legs close as new paint on Impactor, and wordlessly begging for more with his hammering engine.

Emirate Xaaron pulled himself off Springer and let him retract the spent probe back to the safety of its housing, where he could let it rest while it was painfully sensitive after orgasm. He said softly, "Don't worry about me, Springer. I'll get mine." He caught Impactor's gaze and returned a look of his own that was positively predatory. That steadying hand on Impactor's back wandered closer to Impactor's port, ably teasing the rim but going no farther.

Impactor bucked into Springer, nailing him into the berth. If one of those fingers as much slipped ever so innocently into his port, he would let the retractable camera-iris-like saw-blade teeth of his dentata take it off, but Emirate Xaaron just kept taunting him with those fluttering fingertips. Springer could not hold out any longer and cried out, " **Impactor!** " and came. The Triple-Changer collapsed on the berth, panting and fans whining, desperate for coolant. Impactor finished up in him quickly. His own climax felt like a shadow compared to what he had felt of Springer's over the cable, but it was an orgasm, and that was good enough for him. Impactor pulled out and retracted his probe, rocking back up on his knees. He shifted off to the side to let Springer roll himself up against the wall on his side to get himself back together. Springer clutched Emirate Xaaron, who had not had any orgasms of his own, only datafeed echoes from Springer.

That hungry look in Emirate Xaaron's optics had not faded, and he licked his lips in anticipation. He wriggled out of Springer's embrace and went down on Impactor to lick and lave the rim of his port. Impactor glowered down at him and put his head in a lock with his legs. Springer's optics widened, and despite his shagged-senseless state, Springer protested, "Hey! Don't hurt him!" He reached a hand for Emirate Xaaron.

Impactor gave Springer an unbelieving look, silently asking if Springer was for real. Emirate Xaaron reached back to Springer, letting their fingers tangle together loosely, and he assured, "Impactor would never permanently damage me. He's just a little rough sometimes."

The smelting pits were 'a little' hot, too. Springer quieted and stretched himself back out to rest, watching Impactor and Emirate Xaaron absently. Impactor released Emirate Xaaron, who promptly resumed absolutely plaguing him in the sweetest way possible. He grabbed the back of that silver helm, fingers curling under the rim, and held him down so he could not disengage if he wanted to, only on Impactor's terms. Impactor growled, "You knew you wouldn't get off, with Springer coming at you that way. You knew, and you didn't mind, because you wanted to save your stamina for later, didn't you? Manipulative little glitch."

Emirate Xaaron could not answer, unless he wanted to switch to radio, but he seemed content enough with silence and swirling his tongue all around Impactor's port, like it was everywhere at once, pulling those stitches taut against him. Sighing discontentedly, Impactor turned his dentata off. Emirate Xaaron must have heard the click, because his clever tongue darted into Impactor's port, feeling out the walls. Impactor toyed with turning it back on and chewing off that lying tongue, but it was in now, and it felt amazing, expertly flicking over his sensory nodes. He squirmed and made a strangled noise, hand clenching on the back of Emirate Xaaron's helmet. Springer gave Impactor a dirty look over the sound of crinkling metal, but Impactor leered back and insisted, "The tech boys know to fix his bodywork without asking questions. They're good about it."

The tech boys were good, and Emirate Xaaron was _great_. Impactor could get off from just the oral. Doubtless, that was why Emirate Xaaron stopped. Impactor gave him a shove, but he would not start again. So Impactor threw Xaaron on his back on the berth, pinned him with his arms far above his head with his one hand, and brought his port closer to Emirate Xaaron's probe. Emirate Xaaron's optics flashed, and he warned, "But my dear Impactor - I need to switch out for something that'll fit you better!"

Emirate Xaaron did have a pretty dinky default probe. Maybe it was average sized for someone of his build, but he had a dinky build, anyway. Impactor was not sure if he would even notice if it was inside him. He let go of one of Emirate Xaaron's arms to let him rummage through subspace and switch out for a better probe. Emirate Xaaron had a rather plain one, size 6, that Impactor liked well enough when he was in the mood for it. He pulled out a different one, with ridges and whorls all over, a distinct taper to the shaft, ticklers at the base, and a clear casing that revealed little ball bearings inside. It probably vibrated and lit up, too. Impactor smacked it away with his harpoon and snarled, "That's ridiculous. I'm not putting it inside me."

"Your current condition causes loss of sensation. I thought something a bit more exciting than usual might be in order," Emirate Xaaron said, ever so reasonably.

"I'd do that," Springer opined, eying the probe, which had bounced a few times on the floor and rolled under a table.

"You'd frak a zombie and a cripple, too," Impactor growled, reminding Springer that his tastes were questionable at best. Annoyed, Springer roused himself enough to kiss Impactor, who pushed Springer back down and finished, "Just give me something that's not stupid. No lights, no cutesy vibrations -"

Emirate Xaaron pulled out another one, not the plain one that Impactor liked, but one with spiral ridges that ran down the length of it and a spinner plate at the base. He pointed out, "No lights, and it doesn't vibrate."

"It rotates," Impactor stated, looking pointedly at the spinner plate on the base. The long spirals down the length of it reminded him of the rifling inside a barrel that spun a bullet to keep it flying straight. Inevitably, it also reminded Impactor of a drill.

"I'd do that, too," Springer added. He reached out lazily to trace one of his fingers along a spiral.

There was probably a dumb story involving Whirl that explained why Emirate Xaaron had a novelty probe styled after a drill, Impactor decided. He also decided that he did not want to hear it. Impactor said, "If you promise me to never, ever tell me where or why you got that, I'll let you put it in me."

"Deal," Emirate Xaaron agreed, grinning widely. He snapped the probe on and capped it.

Impactor had been so close to coming just from Xaaron's oral stimulation that, if he was still alive, he did not think it would take him long to come now. Given that he was instead cursed to this half-death, Impactor was sure he would take longer if he could come at all, and he did not want to waste time and let his high crash. So he lowered himself onto the probe recklessly, taking the length of it in one go. He ached, but it was just the low level ache he had felt ever since he woke up dead. Impactor was warmed up, and the probe itself seemed to fit fine, maybe a little loosely, since it was a standard size 6, spiral ridges and spinner plate aside. The sensation did less for him that it usually did, given his numbness, and it usually did not do much for Impactor, anyway.

He thought he liked the way the spirals slid against his insides, and he moved up, trying to feel them out better. Impactor realised that part of his problem was that if he rocked forward, the probe did not actually touch the back of his port. If he rocked back, the probe lost contact with the front of his port. The touch from the left and right was tenuous at best unless he moved over to that side, which just made him lose contact with the other side. Impactor tried to clench harder on Xaaron's probe for better contact. When he was alive, Impactor could outright crush a probe with his port if he felt like it without needing to bother with his dentata. He tried to tighten just enough for better contact. Impactor saw Xaaron wince slightly in pain and tried the fit again, which was better, but still not as snug as he would have liked. He idly traced the tip of his harpoon along Emirate Xaaron's jaw and tugged on one of his stitches before asking, "Don't like that you, do you?"

"I've had better," Xaaron admitted, his tone non-committal.

Impactor wiggled himself side to side and grimaced over the faint rattling noise he heard. He swore, "Frak. I'm loose. _Loose!_ I haven't ridden enough probes to be loose!" Death had done to him what no lover had ever dared, and Impactor burned with indignant anger. If could have strangled Death, he would have. The stupid concept had not even bought him a drink.

"If it'll make you feel better, you can ride me until you feel like you've had enough sex to be loose," Springer said. A lecherous grin spread across his face, and he pulled back just before Impactor could crack him on the side of his head with the haft of his harpoon. Springer snapped out his hand and caught the haft, looking goofily pleased with himself. "Hah, got you!"

Impactor yanked back his harpoon, ignoring the scratches it left on Springer's fingers. Emirate Xaaron gently placed his free hand on Impactor's abdomen and said, "Don't worry about being a bit loose or not. Let's just see if you can enjoy this."

The probe slowly started to spin inside of Impactor, and his engine hitched. The sensation was strange but not as unwelcome as Impactor had thought it might be, not like the harsh bite of a Decepticon's drill into his armour, not like a threat at all. He rocked himself up and down on the probe, enjoying the hardness of the interlocked plates of the probe against the inner plating of his port. Those spiral ridges would touch against a sensor node for a brief moment before rotating away and then back again, giving him just an extra burst of stimulation beyond the simple friction of oiled plating against plating. The ridges pushed through his numbness, and his sensors twinged with a dull but definite pleasure.

Impactor let go of Emirate Xaaron's other hand, and Xaaron placed his hands lightly on Impactor's hips, almost too softly for Impactor to feel. He started to buck his pelvis to thrust up to meet Impactor sliding back down his probe. Impactor bore down on him, propped himself up with his hand, and snarled, "Harder." He jabbed the point of his harpoon at Xaaron's chest for emphasis.

Not built like Springer or Impactor, Emirate Xaaron could only oblige Impactor to a certain extent, but he did what he could, and Impactor made up the rest, rocking himself up and down, as deep and fast as he wanted, when he wanted it. His engine growled hungrily, stoked by the heat Impactor felt between his legs. Those spinning spirals turned him on something fierce, even if he would have laughed at the thought of needing that extra help when he was alive.

Grinding one sensor nexus against Xaaron's probe, a sensation like chain lightning flickered through Impactor's body, dancing and almost delicate, before fading out entirely and taking his building high with it. His engine quieted, and Impactor sighed, "I think that was it."

Emirate Xaaron's thumbs stroked along his sides, and he asked, "Want to try for another? I can last a while longer."

"Nah, that was okay," Impactor said, and it was okay, when he could tell it should have been much better, which frustrated him. He smirked anyway. "I'll do it again sometime, if you don't do anything too idiotic. Get yourself finished so I can sack out."

Xaaron snorted, "Such a romantic." He was not known for his mercy, but at least, he hurried up, had his, and pulled out.

Springer tried to loosely gather Impactor in his arms and snuggle up alongside him. Impactor's optics widened with incredulity, and he shoved Springer away from him and over at Emirate Xaaron. Then he snapped, "Cuddling? Are you out of your head? Just let me defrag."

"Fine, I'll cuddle Xaaron instead," Springer said petulantly. If he said anything else, Impactor did not hear, because he was already out.

  
**The End**   


* * *

**Author's Note:** There is a fair amount of fiction wherein the undead have the best sex ever. There is also a fair amount of fiction where the undead cannot have sex at all and spend a lot of time engaging in angst over the lack of sex in their lives. I wanted to write something in the middle, wherein the undead can have sex, and it is fun for them, but it is just not as good as it would be if they were alive instead. I also wanted more humour than angst.

I came across a colouring book that was given to A-10 pilots that jokes about, "For killing the T-62 [a sort of tank] you can't beat the backdoor," which would be why drill tank Impactor is tetchy about positions where he is taken from behind.

I wrote them as having modular private parts that come in standard sizes, because hey, Transformers swap their hands out for different tools all the time. Why not different sized probes for different sized lovers? Why not novelty probes? They have dentatas to booby trap their ports against unwanted intrusions, because if they can have shoulder cannons all over the place, they can have weapons down between their legs, too. They can link up with cables to feel what the other one is feeling, because again, they're Transformers, so why not? They could probably do it wirelessly, but that would be more insecure. What if the Transformer the next room over likes to spy on what other Transformers are doing over wireless? Yuck! They use firewall caps as protection to keep from passing any viruses, Trojans, or malware they may be carrying to their lovers.


End file.
